


But I Linger On, Dear

by MadameFolie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Daydreaming, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFolie/pseuds/MadameFolie
Summary: There’s something about the way he slots into his empty spaces that thrills Guang Hong’s blood. Maybe it’s his smell, bright and clear with a fleshy tang to it. It has a way of soaking into his senses whenever he’s close, so vivid Guang Hong can almost imagine it on his skin.Guang Hong fantasizes. Fortunately, under your jock strap, nobody can hear you scream.





	But I Linger On, Dear

**Author's Note:**

> For the Synchronized Screaming flashfic challenge: "dreams".

_**Guang Hong & or / Any** - vivid daydreams_

 

 

He doesn’t really mean to do it. It’s just that, sometimes, things….well, they kind of get away from him, that’s all. It’s so easy to get lost in a thought, any thought. It starts as a seed and if he dwells too long on it, it goes on ahead and sprouts. Like…  
  
…like when Leo slips his arms over his shoulder to show him something on his phone. There’s something about the way he slots into his empty spaces that thrills Guang Hong’s blood. Maybe it’s his smell, bright and clear with a fleshy tang to it. It has a way of soaking into his senses whenever he’s close, so vivid Guang Hong can almost imagine it on his skin.  
  
Honestly, he does. But he tries to save thinking too hard about it for later, when he’s got some privacy. For times when he can lie against all his pillows and go back to that feeling of a chest against his back. When he can imagine Leo pushing his hips up against him, cock slow to stir. He likes to picture the long boil of it, the gentle rocking of their bodies together, Leo’s hand painfully light as it rests upon Guang Hong’s own arousal. He already knows the way his touch feels. It’s easy to dream it up.  
  
That’s the worst part – that he _knows_. He knows Leo’s breaths, run ragged from practice, and the way he smells. His skin probably doesn’t taste all that different and that thought likes to push its awful little way on into his head too much for its own good. Leo hoists him onto his back and goes galloping around the stands. It’s silly, he’s wearing a floppy panda hat and waving some glittery banner and all he can think about is how Leo feels between his legs. His hips ache, just a bit. A good kind of ache. Leo could lay him down and spread him wide and, oh, it’d be so much – and so, so nice. Sweaty. Breathless. Like podium hugs. But _sexy_.  
  
Leo’s saying something. It’s fuzzy and distant and hearing means snapping out of that pleasant in-between. Dousing himself with a cold shock of reality. Boo. He rests his temple on that big felt hat Leo’s got on.  
  
“This is Houston, copy. As I was _saying_ – one more time around the rink? Do a victory lap?”  
  
Just one more time can’t hurt.


End file.
